


Prompted Writing And Other Sudry Works

by KR Grim (KR_Grim)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KR_Grim/pseuds/KR%20Grim
Summary: Fiction inspired by prompts from the Writing Prompts Tumblr and other sources.





	1. The Chosen One (Is A Stinking Drunk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157864513114/instead-of-a-strapping-young-lad-the-chosen-one
> 
> This one was pretty fun to write, truth be told.

“Your Majesty, the Chosen One has been identified.” King Fear nodded, walking to a window and looking out. His finely-trained legions were doing drills in the yard, and beyond lay a kingdom without equal. “She’s… rather unorthodox.”

“That’s what you said about the last Chosen One, but he was still a skinny teenager with a knack for magic and a sword bigger than he was. Easy enough to convert or dispatch. But humor me,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “How is this one different?”

“Well… to start off with, she’s about as old as you are, sire.” King Fear’s head snapped upward, and he turned around. “They put her age at forty years, sire. Nobody’s quite sure, though, because… er… she’s a drunkard.”

“A… forty-year-old… drunk?” King Fear walked over to the unlucky messenger. “Is this a joke?”

“Y-your Majesty, I would never joke about the Chosen One! I…” King Fear turned to his throne. “I… We don’t know her name yet. But we do know that her drinking apparently hasn’t impacted her skill with the sword. We’ve lost two patrols to her.”

After sitting down, King Fear looked at the messenger. “Send General Pain. I’m not going to mess around with this one.”

***

“Your Majesty, General Pain requests an audience.”

“Send him in.” The General staggered into the room, his face bloodied beyond belief and his armor half-shattered and hanging lamely off his body. “…General Pain. Report.”

“Your…” The General let out a rough cough, his voice strained. “Your Majesty. She… I knew… I knew her. I thought… she had died.” He gripped his shoulder, letting out a pained groan. “Fif… fifteen years ago…”

“Back when I took control of the country. I recall. We proved ourselves that day. Myself, you, Magister Cruelty…”

“Don’t send… Cruelty. She’ll… she’ll defect. Al… always did love… that dead… bas…tard…” General Pain collapsed, succumbing to his wounds. King Fear sighed, walking to the window again. One of his most trusted confidantes had just died on his favorite rug. The damn thing would have to be burned now.

“Orders, Your Majesty?” asked a Royal Guardsman.

“Tell Magister Cruelty she is to remain in her tower. Tell her we need the spell she’s researching. And… send for Minister Rage. Perhaps he will slow this Chosen One down.”

***

“Your Majesty, the Acolyte of Rage requests an audience.”

“Which one?”

The door flew open as a young man, his once-stately robes torn and bloodied, thrust himself into the room. “The only fucking one surviving!” He looked up at the King, his teeth grit and his breath heaving. “That drunken maniac! Why did you send us?!” He rushed the King, only to stop in his tracks when the King glared at him.

“I sent you because I thought Minister Rage could handle it.”

“I’ll let the Minister tell you how that went.” The Acolyte drew a human head from his robes, throwing it at the King. After a few moments, the King recognized it as the head of Minister Rage, beheaded in a moment of bewilderment. “Fuck you. Fuck you for making us do that…” The Acolyte knelt, beginning to sob. “Fuck you, you took away the Minister… you killed the Minister with your stupid fucking order…”

“Take him to the dungeons.” A pair of royal guards lifted the acolyte up, dragging him toward the entrance to the throne room. The Acolyte started resisting as they got closer to the door, eventually breaking free and charging the King. Without even blinking, the King drew one of his guard’s swords and stabbed the charging acolyte through the chest. “Foolish boy.” He turned to the guard whose weapon he had taken. “Get the staff. Have them clean this up. And then have them bring my regalia.”

***

The Royal Regalia felt heavy after all these years. King Fear had been out of practice, but it wouldn’t matter. After all… his opponent was a Chosen One. The Regalia would make up for any skill he lacked.

The door creaked open. “Ah. Finally arrived, have you?”

A tall, unassuming woman with graying hair walked into the room. “Fear you ass,” she said, “why’d you have to take my Comfort from me?”

“I assure you, Magister Cruelty is happier where she is.”

“You ‘n Pain… You both tried to kill me. You even told Comfort I was dead.”

“Because you were supposed to be. We should have killed you with those blows.” She wobbled slightly, hefting a sword that was definitely larger than the last one he’d seen her with.

“Yeah, well… I’ll show you that I don’t die easily. And then maybe this GODDAMN VOICE in the back of my head will cut it out. Seriously, voice. I didn’t want to be your chosen one. I was fine at the tavern. They had beer there, proper beer, not this swill they make in the Capital!” She swung the sword at the air in front of her.

“Are… Are you mad?” asked King Fear, approaching her.

“Hell yes I’m mad, this stupid bastard voice won’t quit telling me to take out ‘King’ Fear because I’m the Chosen One and I have had it up to HERE with it!” Her next swing almost cut through his pauldrons. He noticed that her sword wasn’t magical, and that it looked a bit pitted and dented.

“Look, you’re obviously intoxicated. I’m not going to –”

“Oh yes you fucking are,” she said. “Because nobody… And I mean nobody… takes my Comfort from me.” She swung her sword again. “I told you that before, Fear.” At that moment, another woman, only a few years younger than the two combatants, made her way to the doorway.

“King Fear, I… wait.” She looked at the drunken swordswoman, studying her build and looking at her hair. “Compassion? Lady Compassion, is that you?!”

“That voice…” The swordswoman turned around. “Comfort?! Oh, gods, it’s you…” King Fear tried to take advantage of her distraction, only to find his sword flying out of his hands. Compassion ran to Magister Cruelty, picking her up in a bear hug of an embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I thought you were dead, milady!” The Magister hugged back tightly, tears streaming down her face. “All this time… all these years… If I’d only known…” King Fear grabbed his sword. “Milady… it’s time you end this. End King Fear’s reign. It’s what your mother would have wanted.” As the Magister let go, Lady Compassion turned around, blocking Fear’s sword thrust with an impossibly-timed parry.

“How is this possible?” shouted King Fear. “Why is this happening?”

“You dare to sit where Mother sat,” said Lady Compassion, her grip tightening around her sword’s hilt. With one swing, his armor clattered to the ground. “You dare to betray the kingdom and the trust old General Wisdom displayed.” He only barely managed to parry the second stroke. “And you dared to change my darling Comfort, to mold her into Cruelty with your lies! I am going to end you and I am going to do it here!” One stab, and King Fear was impaled. His eyes widened as he looked at the sword.

“M-mother… didn’t know… how to run a…” He coughed, blood staining his clothes. “A kingdom…”

“No, Fear,” said Lady Compassion. “Mother knew. You just never understood.” She turned to the Magister. “Comfort… if you’re thinking of making me Queen, don’t. I’m a drunk, and a pessimist, and I’d run the country even further into the fucking ground than my brother did. No. But you c’n be Queen.”

“Milady, I could never… I’m not of royal blood.”

Lady Compassion blinked a couple times. “Then marry me an’ you’ll be royal an’ you can be Queen.”

The Magister blinked a couple times. “Are… are you serious?”

“Yup.” Compassion staggered over to the woman she had never stopped loving, even through all the drunken nights trying to forget her. “C’mon. Let’s get married.”

Queen Comfort held her beloved wife-to-be close. “Yes. Let’s.”


	2. Growing Up Anime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157283900045/you-are-a-parent-in-an-anime-your-child-is-born
> 
> Let's face it, subverting expectations is fun.

When Sakura was born, we knew things were going to be a wild ride. Who else but a protagonist would be born with blue hair (her father and I both have regular old black hair) and violet eyes (again, both of us have brown eyes). Her father wanted to put her up for adoption as soon as he saw her. I always was the one with more backbone, though; I said we should raise her ourselves.

Thankfully, the divorce proceedings went smoothly, and he was gone before her first birthday. I did keep track of him, just to make sure he didn’t go off and have a son with some other woman, because I just know that if I hadn’t, fate would’ve dealt us an incest drama subplot or arc, and I am not about to let my little girl have one of those. My senpai in middle school had one, and she… well, it didn’t end well. Lost half her family because of the fallout.

I decided we should move too. We moved next door to my kohai from university, Hiroshi. After all, if anyone’s going to help you keep from being a statistic in your child’s backstory, who better than your anime otaku junior? Especially since he and his wife had just had a son, and he was born with green hair and jet black eyes. I mean, if you’re going to stop one set of parents from being a statistic, may as well try and stop another at the same time, right?

Elementary school was… interesting for the two of them. On the first day of third grade, Sakura found an abandoned dragon, who helped her and Satoshi fight off the “evil” alien who had… apparently been sent to kill him? I’m still not entirely sure on the details of it. But the dragon turned out to be able to shapeshift into a human form, and that was how we ended up with Apophis living with us (or, as he prefers to be called, Pafi-kun). As for Hiroshi and Tsubasa-san, well, somehow Kuroko (she refuses to give her real name) decided that mooching off her target’s parents was better than killing him outright.

I dreaded middle school. Sakura was starting to get to the age where magical familiars start showing up with strange powers, or mysterious energy crystals rain from the sky, or a villainous mob boss takes her family hostage (although let’s be honest, most mob bosses would flee from Pafi-kun’s true form). Satoshi, too, was beginning to get to that age, although Hiroshi seemed to think enrolling him in martial arts would be a good idea. I… I took a different tack with Sakura.

I got her into anime and manga. As soon as she realized what the Call tends to do to parents, she began rejecting it at every point. I know it’s getting desperate, though. At least, it should be. So should Satoshi’s, come to think of it.

I mean… they’re in their second year of high school already. They’ve made friends with the Ojou-sama who’s the heir of the big nearby hospital, not to mention the shrine maiden twins who fight demons on the weekends. And if I hear one more word about how cute the boy who fights the robot menace is from either of those two I’ll tear my hair out. But… it’s strange. I mean…

I know Sakura’s going to get the Call sometime, if she hasn’t already (and if she hasn’t already and is keeping things from me, I’ll probably find out from Setsuna-chan or Midori-chan; those twins really can’t keep a secret). But I can’t help but wonder if… maybe, somehow… but no, it can’t be.

Our kids can’t _possibly_ be Slice-of-Life protagonists.

…Can they?


	3. Well, Princess, I Guess We're Both Disappointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/145198268315/a-knight-in-shining-armor-outsmarts-the-dragon-and
> 
> Because heroic asexuals.

“…no. That’s… uh… that’s not why I…”

“Look, it’s perfectly fine to admit you’re disappointed. I’m used to knights coming up, shining armor, telling me they pledge their undying love or whatever, then the minute I tell them I’m not interested they either drag me home to Dad and get kicked out of the kingdom for asking him ‘what kind of defective daughter do you have’ or they just… leave and let the next knight take care of the dragon. Only, if you’re going to leave me here, at least tell me you told the dragon about breath mints?”

“No, you really don’t understand. I’m fine with you being a lesbian.”

“Yeah, only about two of you guys have actually meant that. One was gay and thought the reward was the hand of a prince, the other was a gnome and I think they just hate dragons? But seriously, it’s OK, I’m not insulted.”

“Your Royal Highness, I do not care that you’re not sexually attracted to me. It’s mutual.”

“Oh, so you’re another gay knight, should’ve guessed, by now my Dad is famous with all the st-”

“No, no, you misunderstand. I wouldn’t be sexually attracted to you if you were a prince, either.”

“So… you’re into gnomes?”

“I’m not ‘into’ anyone. I’m asexual, Princess.”

*blink* “You’re… what?”

“Look, the dragon thing is a job. I need money. Usually it’s escorting nobles and doing bodyguard work, but your kingdom’s a little too peaceful and so I went for the princess rescue gig so that - “

“Yeah, no, I can understand doing it for the money. But what do you mean, ‘asexual’? What, like, you haven’t found the right person yet?”

“That’s not what asexual is.”

“So you just… OK, you’ve got me confused. Isn’t sexual attraction part of what makes us human?”

“Last I checked I was human, so… no?”

“…How can you be so sure you’re not just… picky?”

“Look, you’re beautiful, I get it, I got told that a lot at my last gig, people kept saying it was ‘a shame’, but I just don’t see people that way.”

“…”

“Look, the contract says I bring you to the palace and I get the reward, so if you’d like to get going…”

“I’m not letting some freak take me to the palace.”

“… _pardon?_ ”

“You heard me.”

“…Well then, it was nice knowing you. I’ll be sure to let your father know.” *takes off helmet*

“…wait. Wait, wait, wait. Aren’t you supposed to be a guy?”

“And you’re not supposed to be judgmental. I guess nobody won this round. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a border to cross.”

“…wait! I take back the freak thing! C’mon, take me with you! I can cure you!”

“And that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy the walk back home, princess.”

“GOD DAMMIT WHY IS IT THAT THE FIRST TIME THERE’S A CUTE GIRL KNIGHT SHE ISN’T FUCKING INTO ME?!”


	4. To Make A Wish Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157351576242/for-thousands-of-years-you-have-been-cursed-to
> 
> Sometimes, you piss off the gods SO MUCH that they force you to grant wishes.

“Please,” she says, and it’s all I can do to keep from swearing in front of her. She’s six. How she survived this apocalyptic hellscape I will never know, all I know is that I survive because for SOME GODFORSAKEN REASON humanity didn’t die out after that goddamn war. But she said that stupid accursed word.

“Fine,” I say. “But I will need time… and I will need to meet this… er… ‘bad man’.” In the back of my mind, I’m hoping he’s just some petty thug. After all, a daemon who’s been cursed out of his magic is allowed to do pretty much anything else. Damn me for ever having considered using my magic to trick a god. Should’ve known that never ends well.

The land begins to take on a weirdly idyllic tint as she brings me to her homeland. I’m fairly certain that the war didn’t end in a way that would leave green hills _anywhere_ , let alone near where I’ve been living. And yet here it is, the land growing more lush, the plants and animals thriving, the humans working the fields. …Actually, that’s a lot of humans working the fields. …And they look like they’re having a hard time of it. I turn to the kid. “Uh… what’s up with the farm?”

“Oh… those are the ones who made the bad man angry,” she says. “They’re working there, he calls it pen-uns.” If I had eyebrows, I’d be arching one right now. Penance doesn’t usually look like forced labor. “But he has them work too hard.”

I sigh. “Great. So we’ve got a guy who really doesn’t understand what penance is running the show. Hell’s bells, I’m a daemon and I understand it, and we…” I shake my head.

The streets are quiet. No children playing, no adults going to market. “Uh… human girl. What…”

“It’s the Holy Day. Anyone caught outside the home who isn’t already doing pen-uns gets put in pen-uns.” I massaged my temples with one hand, a habit I’d picked up from the first human to ever ask me for a wish. Somehow it really does a good job of relieving aggravation.

“What the hell kind of guy is this?”

“He’s the bad man.” And that was the whole of her answer.

Somehow, I wasn’t too surprised when she stopped at the entrance to a cathedral. “He’s always in here,” she said. “I… I want to see you beat him.” I sighed, taking her small, fleshy hand in my six-fingered clawed gauntlet of chitin, metal, and bone. Together, we walked into the cathedral.

A figure was praying at the altar - him, I guessed. But he didn’t feel quite human. As the door closed behind us, he stood up. As we approached, he turned around, and for a moment, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Staring at me was something that, like me, was mostly human-shaped. Its hands had six metallic fingers, attached to the palm by strands of purest light. Its three sapphire eyes glared at me. Its skin looked literally carved from marble. And I could see that its glowing heart, once a brilliant black, had begun to grow lighter, and spread silver cracks through its chest.

You never get to see an angel mid-fall. Usually it’s either pure, with hearts the inky black of the void of space, or completely fallen, with a heart that burns a blinding white. I looked at the human girl, who nodded. This was the tyrant she wanted taken care of.

Shit.

Letting go of her hand, I walked up to him. “Hey.”

“Begone, daemon,” it said, its voice a legion of thousands. “You have no place in this realm. Its corruption has lasted for too long, and it requires salvation.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, listen buddy. I can’t. Although I will agree that this place needs to be saved.” I could feel the raw magical power emanating from it. “Specifically, from you.”

“What do you mean?” In its right hand, he began to gather magical energy. This was probably going to hurt. “What I am doing is saving this land, drawing its people out of the web of sin they entangled themselves in.”

“Actually, I saw your little ‘forced penance’ thing on the way in. You’re keeping the humans enslaved by all your little rules, and working them to death if they so much as put a toe out of line.” The angel shook its head. “Face it, buddy, you’re cracking and panicking. You’re falling and it’s taking too long. You don’t know what’s going on and you want to stop it.”

“No. You’re wrong. I am cleansing the world of filth.” The cracks in its chest began to grow. “Daemon I will not allow you to trick me.” More energy glowed in its hands. I took a deep breath.

“You’re playing at tyranny.”

It shoved its hands into my body, its entire being crackling with raw magical energy as the cracks continued to widen. But… I didn’t feel a thing. I mean, I felt a shove, but the discharge never came. I don’t think he was expecting that either. “Why… why isn’t this working? Your magic should have torn you apart…”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, but my dear falling angel… I’m a magicless daemon. Cursed by the heavens, by the gods themselves, to grant mortals wishes… and to do it the hard way.”

I could see the realization hit it. But instead of dropping its magic, it continued to draw in magical energy. “If that’s the case… then I’ll just have to make the gods’ curse tear you to shreds!” The energy surrounding it arced into the first row of pews, igniting them in a burst of flame. “I’ll need more power, of course. Enough to pierce the protections of the gods themselves. Because nobody, especially not some upstart daemon, is going to prevent me from redeeming this world!”

“But you’re hurting us!” shouted the… oh, shit. The girl was still here.

The angel turned to look at her. “Naughty children deserve to be punished,” it said, its form crackling. “I think perhaps you need to understand what being harmed really feels like.”

I stepped in front of it. “Leave the child alone.” I stretched out a hand. “You’re accelerating your fall.”

“I am not falling, daemon! These cracks are a test of my devotion! My mission is clear! By any means necessary, I must cleanse this-” I stabbed my claw through its heart.

The magic energy exploded upward, blasting a hole through the roof of the cathedral. The angel collapsed, its body still bearing the numerous silver cracks it had gained in trying to kill me and the child. It looked at me, hatred burning in the gemstones it called eyes. “You very nearly killed an innocent, angel.”

“There are… no… innocents. Not since the war… not since mankind doomed itself…” I shook my head.

“Clearly, the gods disagree.” I reached out a hand, which it ignored. It moved its hands to the pose meant to gather magical energy to it… but nothing happened.

That is, until the booming voices filled the cathedral. “You have dared,” they said, “to attempt to undo the workings of the gods. You are an angel, one of our servants.” Its metallic fingers scraped at the stone floor, and it bowed its head.

“This daemon was attempting to disrupt my holy work, redeeming this planet!”

“This daemon is under our protection,” replied the Gods. “He has been doing our work for millennia, granting wishes to humans. You have ignored our warnings, enslaved a city… We have tried to warn you, but you have not listened.”

“I have been praying for your guidance, o merciful gods!”

“Then why did you persist, when the cracks began to show?” The angel stammered, unable to make a response. “Angel, you have failed in your duties and you have used magic in an attempt to defy the will of the gods.”

I took a deep breath. I knew what they were going to say next; those words never left my memory in the thousands of years since the gods cursed me.

“Henceforth shall you be bound to serve. You will have no magic, save that which keeps you alive and bound to mankind. You will grant wishes to the humans who seek you out. When mankind has ceased to be, so shall you; that is our mercy. But unless it is requested of you, you may not harm another soul.”

I could see the angel’s mind race. It reached into its chest and tried to pull out its heart. “Then kill me now, o gods!” The scars on my body, from all the times I’d tried to kill myself in the first few days just to spite the gods, began to ache. I walked over to it.

“They won’t,” I said. “And it’s no use trying to kill yourself, either.” I looked at it. “You know you won’t be able to be king anymore, right?”

“What do you mean?” I grinned.

“Human child, come here.” The six-year-old girl walked over. “Ask him for a wish. And don’t forget to say ‘please’.”

“…I wish everyone doing pen-uns was free. Please.”

The angel looked at her, then at me, then back at her. “I… They are doing… This isn’t… I…” It looked at me. “I don’t want to! They earned their penances! I don’t want to do this! Why is her wish echoing in my head?!”

“Because until you grant it, it will dog you.” I patted the girl’s head. “Now then, child. If there is nothing more…”

“…I wish I had a baby brother, Mr. Daemon. Please.”

…Shit.


	5. The Dead Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157598756702/you-walk-in-a-room-to-find-that-the-only-way-to
> 
> ELVIS LIVES!

I look at the list of names already on the paper. Most of them don’t ring a bell, but here and there are some I recognize: Adolf Hitler, Iosif Dzhugashvili, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Abraham Lincoln. If I read Chinese or Japanese I bet I’d recognize a few more, and I don’t know Hindi or Arabic but I’d bet my left leg there’s a few dictators among that set (and freedom fighters, I mentally add, seeing MLK and Harvey Milk on the list) just like everywhere else.

I begin looking for others. Mama Cass is on there, too, along with so many members of the 27 Club it isn’t funny. I’m half tempted to whip out google and add another name to the list just to prove the conspiracy theorists right, but… No. Better not. Too many other people have done the same thing.

I take a deep breath. There are so many evil people I could sentence to death in this way. But at the same time, my mind is racing with the knowledge that destabilizing regimes leads to nasty unintended consequences. And this apparently doesn’t control how they die, either… just that once I leave, they die.

I take a deep breath and try something. I mean, yes, the room knows who to kill, but maybe they just have to try and ensure the death of whoever’s written on the paper. I write down William Shakespeare. The door remains closed. For shits and giggles, I begin writing down other dead people. Vlad the Impaler doesn’t open the door, and neither does Emperor Nero. When I write “Jesus Christ” the paper somehow manages to draw a pair of rolling eyes on itself.

I don’t expect to hear the door click open when I write down Elvis’s name.

…Whoops.


	6. Saved By The Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157574634952/in-a-desperate-mission-to-save-the-world-from
> 
> As a 90s kid, I had an obligation to reference Saved by the Bell.

“So what happened to the other experts?” The General shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean, you had to have had people in other fields. I mean, physics? Biology? Chemistry?”

“The physicists have locked themselves up in their offices writing about their observations, hoping to crack some great big secret. Something about the enemy weapons and star-drives that ‘doesn’t fit in any of our models, it’s so exciting’. The chemists are still trying to identify what their bodies are made of so the biologists can have the corpses back, but right now they’re going with ‘a stable transuranium element that somehow behaves a lot like carbon, only it’s definitely not carbon because the Fraunhofer Lines don’t match’ and the biologists are excited because these things aren’t like us at all and it gives them a whole new playground.” The General sighed.

The Admiral continued. “The sociologists are tearing their hair out because their theories are all useless when dealing with nonhuman subjects and they need raw data that the psychologists and neurobiologists can’t provide because we can’t figure out what the goddamn brain is. The doctors haven’t had enough samples to figure out what’s what in the autopsy, either. The lawyers are debating how this should be handled and the politicians are doing their best to keep the people calm. The linguists have been able to crack their language, for all the good that does us, and the astrophysicists have pinpointed three stars that seem to be the best guesses for their home, but…”

“Why me?”

“Because if we want an expert in bullshit, it’s got to be either you or Donald Trump. And after the mess he left in the White House after three months we’re not going to trust him with a toothpick.”

I shrugged uncomfortably as they led me to the negotiating table. The aliens looked… weird. I cleared my throat. “So, uh, hey, guys. Er. Alien dudes.”

They glanced at me, unimpressed. “Human.”

“So… you guys have taken on our planet’s standard defense forces. Guns and all that shit.”

“Your woefully inferior technology has been ineffective.”

“Well, that’s only part of our technology. You see… we have certain super-secret laboratories developing highly classified technologies, and I have just been authorized to warn you about what’s to come unless you leave.”

“Try your best, human.”

“First off, there’s the giant robot lions.”

“Giant… robot… lions?”

“Yeah, five robotic lion ships that combine to make a human. Two lions make the legs, two make the arms, and one forms the head. The pilots are undergoing testing, but hopefully soon we’ll have Voltron up and running. Of course, that’s just the first phase, once we’ve got Voltron it’ll be running alongside the Megazord. Then there’s the human genome advancement program, which should be coming along nicely right about now.”

“What does that one entail?”

“One human with a specialized suit of armor, known as the Masked Rider. It’s estimated that this human, once the armor has been properly attuned and after his training is complete next week, will be able to take out an entire battle fleet.”

“Ours or yours?”

“Yours, dude. And I’m not even getting into the Utonium initiative.”

“Utonium?”

“Professor Utonium, of the Townsville Research Institute. He’s made three perfect little girls who also happen to have super-strength, laser vision, flight, the ability to survive a vacuum… only reason he hasn’t let them loose yet is because he’s lobbying the government to not overextend them.”

“Because they would conquer your globe?”

“Because they’re fuckin’ five, dude. They’re children.”

“So you have Professor Utonium’s powerful children, the Masked Rider, Voltron, the Megazord… what else?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that Merlin’s slumber should be ending sometime soon and the Arthurian Rebirth is probably going to happen in about…” I looked at my watch. “Seven hours, I think? So, y’know, powerful wizard.”

“Wizard?”

“Yeah, we call ‘em that because they use technology we haven’t fully understood yet. You know, Clarke’s Third Law?”

“We are… unfamiliar with that law.”

“Oh, it’s an important one, dude. Remind me to tell you about it. But in the meantime, I gotta say, you’re biting off more than you can chew. I mean, hell, I haven’t even gotten to the mystic sages of the Shaolin temples of China, or the dragons roaming the Russian countryside, or the ancient megaweapon known as the Cluster that’s buried under the Earth’s surface…”

“…perhaps attacking your planet was a mistake.” The aliens look at one another. “Is… is peace still an option?”

“Shit, dude, the only reason we’re pulling out all the stops is because you haven’t been willing to talk peace. We’re totally down for that.” The lead alien sighed, obviously relieved.

“Then we shall negotiate.”

***

Three years later, I ran into one of the aliens. “So… I have done some research, human.” I drew in a sharp breath. “Voltron, Megazord, Utonium, magic… these are not things that actually exist. You exaggerated your capabilities and made yourselves seem more powerful than you are.” I could feel the blood drain from my face. “You drew upon names from your own entertainment in an effort to stop our glorious conquest of your world.”

I opened my mouth a couple times, but the words refused to come out.

“…If we had known human culture, human entertainment was so rich before our attack, we would have proposed trade from the beginning!”

That was when I fainted.


	7. Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157630423327/my-left-arm-didnt-appear-until-i-was-3
> 
> Did someone order creepy? No? Too bad.

“Really? Like… a reverse amputee?” I shrugged uncomfortably.

“Sorta. Only not really. See… it’s a bit of a weird condition.” I motioned to my head. “See the hair up here?”

“Yeah…”

“Started growing in when my dad died. I literally have my father’s hair. And the eyes?” I handed him a photo.

“…you have no eyes in this. Who photoshopped it?”

“Nobody. This was taken on a film camera.”

“You know what I mean.”

“The moon landing is more faked than these photos.” He looked closer. “There’s no eyes. Didn’t get those until my maternal grandfather passed away. I have his eyes.”

“So wait… what did you look like when you were born? What’s yours?“

“The essentials. Brain, lungs, stomach, liver, skin. Right arm’s been with me since birth, so’s the left leg but not the left foot. Right leg came in a couple days later.”

“Wait, you forgot the heart.”

“Dad said I was on life support for the first few minutes, something about no clear heartbeat.”

“…Did you know your mom?”

“Only through Dad’s stories. …oh, no way. There is no possible way I –”

“Your mom died in childbirth, dude. Or shortly after. You have your mom’s heart.”

“But then… what else of mine is…” I shuddered.


	8. Getting Away With Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/157577307421/youre-accused-of-murder-you-hire-or-the-state
> 
> DUN DUN DUN!!!

I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you’ve heard the story a million times: Framed for murder, your lawyer gets you the death penalty because HE WAS THE MURDERER THE WHOLE TIME.

So when I see the person in the state-appointed attorney’s chair, my first instinct is to try and get a different attorney. But she closes the door and moves me to my seat before I can say a word. “No alibi,” she said, “enough motive to choke a mule, and a clear fingerprint on what’s assumed to be the murder weapon. This is gonna be a tough one.”

“Especially since you’re the real murderer.” She rolled her eyes.

“Please. That’s why I’m going to get you off.”

“…what?” I arched my eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” she said, “the state doesn’t realize it wasn’t a… well, I mean, it was a murder, but…” She sighed. “Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?” I shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, I haven’t, but my sister… Her girlfriend was a real scumbag. Gaslighting, projection, every trick in the psychological manipulator’s book. Oh, she never laid a hand on my sister, but you better believe it was domestic abuse. She had what was coming.”

“But… why me?” She folded her hands and looked at me.

“Honestly? I figured they’d peg my sister, and I’d be defending her. But then you went and good samaritaned your way into this case by trying to remove the knife keeping the victim from bleeding out.” As she began looking through her papers, she said, “OK. So this is how it’s going to go. She obviously wasn’t mugging you, and I know the prosecution’s going to play the jilted lover angle.”

“But she was – “

“Your cousin, I know. Doesn’t make that angle any less appealing, if anything it makes you seem like more of a deviant thanks to them playing the incest card. Are you publicly out?”

“No.”

“Then that’s one torpedo we can’t fire. although we could turn it into a blackmail plot.”

“Look, why are you trying to slander my cousin’s good name?” She glared at me.

“Because your cousin didn’t care one fig about my sister, and made her life a living hell. People like that… I can’t stand them.” She handed me a letter. “Read this. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I spent the night in the holding cell, reading the letter over and over again. It was definitely my sister’s handwriting, addressed to our cousin. The things in the letter, though… they didn’t seem like they could possibly be true. Did Cassandra really hate her girlfriend that much? What kind of person had she been, to think this would be fine? Was this letter even real?

By the morning, I’d made up my mind. When my lawyer showed up, I handed her the letter. “I’m in,” I said. “Let’s make this the show of the century.’

Nine months later, I walked out of the courtroom a free man… at least, so long as my lawyer is OK with me. But I can’t help but worry… After all, three can keep a secret if two are dead, they say.

And I might be one of the two.


	9. Princes of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/158376187323/you-wanted-to-summon-the-ruler-of-hell-but-youre
> 
> Meet The Adversaries

Standing before me, inside the silvered circle I had drawn, were three very different beings. One was a tall, angelic-looking androgynous figure with a wingspan half the length of the room and a sword that burned with cold fire, and they were glowing (and were pretty obviously concentrating to keep it down to just a glow, and were pretty obviously also trying to keep their form to something that wouldn’t scare the shit out of me). Next to them stood a dapper man in what was obviously a very expensive tailored suit, pale as all hell with a curly little goatee and his black hair expertly slicked back, his eyes red as coals; he was looking at the Rolex on his wrist and carrying a briefcase. On the other side of the angel (?) from him was what I’d pictured when I was trying to summon Satan, albeit shrunk; a great red demon with three heads, each bearing massive horns and a maw filled with wicked, pointy teeth, clawed hands, and lower legs that looked like a satyr’s. The red one looked at the other two. “Oh, shit,” said the left head, its voice the deep, guttural growl I expected the devil to have. “Look at who it is.”

The right head sighed. “Of course. Of fucking course you’re here too.” Its voice was more like what I would have expected an imp’s to be, a medium-high thing that was just lacking a mirthful (or mirthless) cackle.

The middle head looked around. “Where’s Iblis?” it asked, its voice a hissing whisper. “Usually he gets summoned too whenever they do this…”

The angel(?) sighed. “Another,” they said, “who has mistaken us for different identities. I tire of this.”

“You and us both, Morning-Star,” said the red one, all three heads speaking at once. Morning-Star sheathed their sword. “And you. Dealmaker.”

Dealmaker sighed. “Satan, if you would just shut up for one minute, you would make me the happiest spirit in the realm.” His voice was like every sleazy lawyer, salesman, and con artist rolled into one. He turned to Morning-Star. “And as for you, what gives you any right to…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, looking at them. “So… only one of you is Satan? The Devil? Lucifer? Ruler of All Hell and Lord of Demonkind? Because… that’s who I wanted to summon.”

Satan(?) turned to me. The left head was the only one that spoke. “You asked for Satan, Lucifer, and The Devil. As for who rules Hell, and all its demons, well…”

Morning-Star cut him off with a gesture. “Thou. Mortal. Explain thy whim. I shall see to it that every last of the Fallen, and every child who hath borne the name Nephilim, shall be with thee and make it so.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You are not dragging your holy war back to earth, Lucifer. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, your fallen angels and your nephilim had their turn, it’s got to work through the rest of us first.”

“The human called upon me, Devil! I shall not leave behind a request simply because thy pride refuses to —”

“I’m telling you step off with your ‘all the fucking Fallen’, Lucifer! Seriously, do you have any idea how much damage you did to the Middle East with your last crusade?”

“'Twas only for Iblis and Satan had joined forces and threatened coup over the mighty armies which crusade against He Who Is and his loyal will-less angels, had they not I would have ne’er had cause to —”

“To what, to impersonate the pope and launch a goddamn crusade?! And, I mean, come on, what kind of monster uses child soldiers?”

“The Innocent make the best — “

“WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT THE HELL UP?!” Satan’s three heads roared. “Fuck, we forgot how irritating it is having you two in the same room.” The left head rubbed the bridge of its nose with one of its thumbs and forefingers. The middle head hissed, “If you’re going to have your goddamn lovers’ tiff, do it once we’ve found out what the child wants and granted their wish.” They(?) turned to me. “Now then. Human. Which of us did you want?”

“Yes, which?” asked The Devil.

“Indeed. Choose,” added Lucifer.

I looked between the three of them. “Uh… whichever one can grant me great magical power, I guess.”

“Slaughter a goat and burn its body on a pyre, and I shall invest in thee the might of seven of mine Fallen,” said Lucifer.

“Nah. Here, I’ll draw up a contract, and you can give me your immortal soul in exchange for magic beyond your wildest dreams,” said The Devil.

“If you prepare another ceremony like this one,” hissed Satan’s middle head, “and burn the proper incense, whose name I shall impart to you in a dream, I will grant you a demonic familiar, who shall teach you much more of the occult.”

“Wait. Seriously? What’s the catch.”

“You will bear my mark, which will grow stronger with each spell you cast. Of course, what form that mark takes…” Left and right shook their heads. “No magic is without sacrifice. Or was that chicken already dead when you placed it in the circle.”  
  
“…no,” I finally admitted. “…Look. I’ll think about it. I gotta… I gotta absorb this for a little bit.”

“Don’t take too long,” said The Devil. “I’ve got a meeting with Donald Trump in an hour, I think he wants to whine about the fact that I helped him win the Presidency.”

“Wait, I thought that was Putin.”

“And who do you think helped Putin realize what was in his best interest?” asked The Devil.


	10. The Will of the Proletariat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/158384821959/it-is-said-in-a-divine-prophecy-that-you-will
> 
> Karl Marx, eat your heart out.

“Technically, I call it a victory,” said the Devil. “I mean, I obviously would’ve preferred she become the Antichrist, but…”

“No. No, it’s not your victory. I… Hang on a second, let me find the rulebook.” God walked over to her bookshelf.

“Look,” said the Devil, “you’ve been through that thing a hundred times. Face it, you lost.”

“That’s not what I’m looking up and you know it.” She flipped through the pages. “…Just as I thought. It’s not a victory for either of us. She just changed the game. We’re both losers.”

“…what?”

“Page 17, subsection 3.”

“…Hang on, let me see that.” The Devil walked over, looking over God’s shoulder. After a couple minutes, he blinked, and then sank to his knees. “But… But that’s… That’s not… Just because she became… We both lose?”

***

When I picked the loophole three years ago, I wasn’t sure it’d work. But after seeing the Devil’s support of the patriarchy and God’s emotionally abusive control freak nature, I began looking for every loophole I could find.

I’m still not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be as the Embodiment of the Will of the Proletariat. I mean, on the one hand, it seems like a really communist position. But on the other hand, I keep finding myself supporting regulated capitalist systems that… aren’t quite full communism, but also aren’t quite capitalism as it’s known. I mean, on the one hand, I somehow managed to tear down the banking system with my bare hands (like, the actual system, not just the banks but the underpinning economic rationale too), but on the other, I somehow became the patron saint of the media or something, since I’m apparently passively shielding journalists (at least, the legit ones; it’s really weird to see so many accidents befalling fake news on both the right and the left, and I’m still not entirely sure _how_  Fox News HQ managed to get completely devoured by termites in 5 hours).

Still… I remembered enough from my abusive ex to see God’s true colors when she began trying to manipulate me. And I was already well acquainted with the harm wrought by the Devil’s preferred tools, so rejecting him was pretty damn easy.

Of course, every step I’ve taken since I became the Embodiment of the Will has been… in some kind of direction. I’ve begun attracting and creating atheists, even though I keep telling people that the whole reason I chose this path was because God is real and she’s not a good person (although I will say that I thought her son was an OK dude, we hung out a couple times before I made the choice, and he still visits every few weekends; I’m considering setting him up with one of my atheist crew, see what Pete says when I introduce him to Actual Middle Eastern Jewish Man Jesus Christ).

It’s kinda weird seeing the Church, which has been such a dominant figure in the West for so long, begin to collapse. I have to wonder what God and the Devil are thinking.

***

“I hope you realize this is your fault,” said God.

“Uh, I’m not the one who acted like the crazy manipulative ex, Jehova,” replied the Devil.

“I was not! I was just informing her of the torture that would await her if she became the Antichrist.“

“And you negged her at your first meeting with her.”

“Look, calling her an impressive imperfect being isn’t negging, she’s human.”

“Sounds like negging to me.”

“What would you know?”

“Sugar, my guys coined the term, ‘kay?” The Devil sighed. “Anyway. What the hell do we do now?”

God sat down with the book, looking for something else. “Maybe we can start again?”

“Oh, yeah. That sounds good. And then we awaken the Spirit of Godless Capitalism and suddenly you’re replaced by God Money.”

“…If you begin quoting Head Like A Hole I’ll throw this goddamn thing at your head.”


	11. Francis and Jerry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/158690165943/a-mad-god-and-a-simple-farmer-sit-down-for-dinner
> 
> Checkers: A game for literally everyone!

Francis had been doing this for years, and he would be damned if this was the first time that ass whose true name was technically six unpronounceable glyphs of pure madness (Francis called him Jerry) was going to beat him at checkers. But the niceties had to be observed first, and that meant dinner. Francis grabbed the tin can of beans from off the stove and put the bacon on a wooden plate. “Eat up,” he said.

Jerry dd that thing where his hand just sort of turned into a hundred mouths and wolfed down a good half the beans and three of the slices of bacon. “Only three today?” Jerry shrugged, an “I’m not feeling hungry” kind of shrug. Francis shrugged back and began eating the rest of the bacon. “So how’s the whole chaos thing going?”

“Pretty good,” croaked Jerry, his voice definitely sounding a lot more amphibian than it had last time. “Someone left a toad at the shrine, I’ve been thinking of adopting him.”

“I’d do it,” said Francis. “Did that with my Ethel, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.”

“Understandably, doesn’t she run a research lab in the city now?”

“Yeah.” Francis continued to chew on the bacon as Jerry talked about some of the other offerings at the shrine, occasionally adding in commentary (tonight’s best line, in his not so humble opinion, was “But Jerry, a flaming bag of dog shit isn’t an offering, it’s just teenage boys playing a prank.”) After dinner they got up, cleaned off the table (well, Francis cleaned off the table, Jerry just ate his plate and vomited up a new one, it was disgusting but it was Jerry trying to be helpful), and laid out the checkers, the game began. As always, Jerry began trying to pull tricks, like transforming Francis’s kings into miniature human beings, or turning the pieces Francis was about to take into corrosive blobs of acid, or pulling a “Look over there!” and trying to put pieces back on the board. But by the end of the game, Francis had still won, even if the checkers set and the table were both a mess again.

“Good game,” said Francis. Jerry burbled something indistinctly, but the two shook hands. As Francis led him to the door, Jerry said, “Are you sure we can’t play poker?” Francis shook his head.

“Jerry, you’d replace checkers with somethin’ even more lopsided in my favor? I honestly can’t understand ya.”


	12. Captain Courage Refuses To Kill Baron Von Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/159971662220/the-hero-never-kills-the-villain-for-one-reason
> 
> I have to wonder if this prompt was inspired by ProZD.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Baron von Doom is actually really useful.” The reporter sighed. “I can prove it to you. Do you remember how the latest cancer treatment came about?”

“What, cellular restructuring therapy? The technique that’s saved millions of lives? Wasn’t it some military think tank?”

“Specifically, the Ananda Valley Biotechnologists’ Collective. The device in question is a reverse-engineered piece of technology acquired from Baron von Doom, a ‘cellular destabilizer’ he had meant to use on me.”

“…OK, that’s one thing, but that hardly — “

“The material they use to make 3D printed organs. You know, the regenerating stuff?”

“That was his too?”

“Weaponized version of it was stuffed down my throat. Very nearly choked to death. And do you know the lasers currently used to do non-invasive brain surgery?”

“Let me guess, tested on you?”

“Yeah, and about half a dozen people before me. Then there’s the modulators they’ve begun installing on police vests to stop all those rash-judgment police shootings. That was an aggression manipulator he used to get himself powerful enough to fight me. The ocean cleanup device? Originally a death-bot. The bee cloner? That’s why I wear armor, but otherwise it’s a ‘weapon’ in the loosest sense of the word, since he only made it to kill me because he knew about my bee allergy.“

“So what, your plan is to get him to keep making devices that will turn the world into a better place?”

“Better than just killing him. Although that reminds me, I should make sure he’s still at the mental institution. You wouldn’t know it, but his best stuff comes when he’s on his meds. I mean, half the reason you can visit the Moon for a day trip is because of the work he’s done on rockets while in the Asylum.”


	13. The Worst Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/161610901508/guardian-angels-are-granted-a-life-on-earth-for-as
> 
> Just. The worst.

“You’re kidding.” I sighed, looking down at my cup of coffee. “There’s no way you of all people would have a crisis like that.”

“You haven’t seen the assignment.” I pulled out the dossier. “I mean, his parents alone are going to make him a nightmare for everyone else.” My fellow angel looked it over.

“And you’re sure he was supposed to go to Guardian Division? Seems to me more like a case for Pre-Emptive Redemption.” I frowned.

“Yeah, you’d think so, but…” I sighed. “I really, really hope I’m wrong about it. I mean… I’d like a long, full life. So… I guess I’ll have to put my faith in him. I just hope what happened to Sammael doesn’t happen to me.”

“Look, Leviel, I’m sure that this Donald Trump kid won’t be as bad for you as Hitler was for Sammael. Besides, if you succeed, imagine what you’ll get to do on Earth.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I have to have faith.”

***

“Uriel, I think I fucked up.”

“Whaddya mean, Lev?”

“I mean my job isn’t worth this.”

“It’s been seventy years, Lev, you can’t just quit now.”

“I’m ready for someone to take this bastard down. Do you have any idea how disgusting a mortal he is?”

“Lev, listen — “

“No, I’m done. I’m gonna start leaking everything to the press.”

“Lev, c’mon, just — “

“Uriel, this guy is so Hellbound I’m surprised I haven’t seen more demons coming by to prep him.”


	14. Alien Dick Pics (sfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No prompt on this one, exactly what it says on the tin.

An alien goes to a human looking for advice, and he gets told to send dick pics to the people he likes because the human who he asks is kind of a jerk, but since the alien doesn’t know that and the human is gonna be long off-base before the damage is done, it goes through.

So all of a sudden all these human base members get sent these strange messages, it’s all “You Are My Good Friend And I Like You Signed Zorblax” and then there’s a picture of Richard Nixon, and it’s never the same picture, it’s like it’s a personalized Richard Nixon for their Human Companion, and so Steve, who’s Zorblax’s bestie among the humans, is kinda concerned and confused but whatever, until Zorblax comes up to him and they go “Human Steve! Human Steve! This is terrible!”

“Woah, woah, calm down, buddy, what is it?”

“I cannot find the appropriate picture for our friendship to be acknowledged!”

“What?”

“I was told that if I have someone I like I should send them a ‘Dick Pic’, but none of the pictures of the Nixon available on your internet convey the kind of depth my feelings have for you, would it be terribly inappropriate to send you a picture of the Cheney instead?”

And that was how Human Steve wound up not correcting Zorblax’s misconceptions for the first time because god dammit you can’t just ruin the purity of this precious cinnamon roll’s intentions by telling it what a dick pic actually is and what it actually means, let’s just let them keep sending their friends pictures of Richard Nixon (also Human Steve recommends maybe one of Richard Simmons for him, since he’s a fan of the cheesy ancient video exercise tapes).


	15. The Fall of Aresha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://libations-of-blood-and-wine.tumblr.com/post/68633756498/in-fairy-tales-and-fantasy-two-types-of-people-go
> 
> Oh, my goodness. This was so much fun to write.

“Mother,” she asked me one night, “tell me what it was like when you were a princess. How did you meet Father?” I smiled at her, stroking her hair. “Was he a handsome knight?”

“Hardly,” I said, laughing a little. “The story begins in a kingdom that no longer exists. The Kingdom of Aresha was a mighty military power, whose kings had long reigned in armor, led from the saddle, ruled at spearpoint. Theirs was a kingdom that thrived in war, whose sons were soldiers and whose daughters weeping maidens. Every prince was a general, every princess locked away in a tower until a suitable vassal was found or a diplomatic marriage arranged.”

“Why would they do that?” I sighed.

“I only have my theories. I believe they thought that because it had always been that way, that was the way it should be. Boys were to be soldiers, conquering new kingdoms and crushing resistance leaders, while girls were to be pawns, buying alliances with the kingdoms they could not yet conquer.” I took a deep breath. “There were several towers that princesses were sent to. One king had four daughters, and one son. Upon the son were placed the burdens of a kingdom. Each daughter, when she reached the age of fifteen, was secluded in a tower, with only one visitor every three months. True, the towers had servants, but they were to never interact with the daughter save to bring her her food and take the dishes away.”

“That sounds horrible.” I nodded.

“The oldest daughter was a strong woman, but she craved company. Her solitude, it seemed, drove her to the brink of suicide, and on her eighteenth birthday, when she was to meet her husband, she climbed the outside of the tower and leapt.”

“Oh no…” I held my daughter’s hand.

“She survived. Her tower had been near a wyvern rookery. One of the wyverns was a wild beast, captured in a raid shortly before the princess’s captivity began and repeatedly recaptured after every escape it made. It was a cunning beast, regarded by its captors as a cruel and vicious animal, one that almost wasn’t worth the costs involved in breaking its spirit. For three years, the wyvern had paid a nightly visit to the tower where the princess was held, allowing itself to be recaptured every morning and bringing her stolen gear and provisions every night. She had taught herself how to fight, practicing wyvern-back combat using a training dummy the wyvern had “destroyed” and teaching herself swordsmanship. She trained her vision and accuracy with a bow, and before long, she had molded herself into the first self-taught wyvern knight the realm had seen in ages, and the finest the realm would ever see.”

“So she was like Auntie Telia?” I nodded, smiling.

“Yes, she was. A greater markswoman the realm would never see than her. She flew far into the mountains, into the realm of the wild wyverns and the unconquered tribes, and united them into a terrifying force. She took the leader of one tribe for her wife, and they founded a great kingdom, called Tual Catil, which in the holy tongue of the tribes meant the Unbowed Lands.”

“That’s where Auntie Telia lives!” said my daughter. I nodded, stroking her hair.

“That it is.” I took a deep breath. “The second daughter was silent, as they felt a woman ought to be, but she showed little emotion, and she was far too stoic to be what they considered a proper lady. After she went to her tower, which stood in the middle of a great wood, she stopped speaking altogether.”

“Why?”

“Well, some said she had taken a vow of silence. Others said she felt such shame she could not bring herself to speak. Still others said it was her stubborn way of rebelling against her parents. But she spent her days in meditation and her nights in practice, walking herself through ancient martial exercises and honing her body and mind into a weapon more deadly than steel. She shaved her head and began tattooing ancient symbols on her body, from the nearly forgotten religion the ancestors of the Areshan people had believed in. On her eighteenth birthday, her parents arrived and brought her suitor to the door of the tower.”

“What did she do to him?”

“Nothing. She had disappeared the night before. All that was left in the room was a letter and a triangular piece of shriveled pink leather. Her father read the letter, growing increasingly incensed as he went down, and demanded that the guards start a kingdom-wide search for his daughter. The letter said that she had gone to seek enlightenment, and that she had cut out her own tongue three years prior. By the time the King had arrived, she had been gone for several hours, having climbed down the side of the tower and run westward, toward the great desert of Ougaan. Rather than cross it, however, she found an oasis and began to work, quarrying heavy stones and building a monastery from little more than bedrock. As she worked, others flocked to her, hearing tales of the mysterious queen of the oasis. She eventually began teaching them, walking them through the fighting style she had developed.”

“But how did she teach them? She couldn’t talk!”

“But she could write. And write she did. I am sure you have heard of the silent monks, the warrior-priestesses who cut out their tongues in honor of their founder. The Desert-Walkers of Ougaan. I know you know them.”

“Because of Auntie Erishi.” I nodded.

“Yes, she is one of their number. I’m sure you’ve noticed how beautiful her penmanship is. Well, that’s because she cannot speak, and unlike her, we cannot understand the hand-signs of the Desert-Walkers.” My daughter’s mouth made an “o” shape. “And that was the second daughter. The third daughter was placed in a tower surrounded by a lake filled with poisonous fish, venomous insects, and fearsome predators, in the middle of a forest prowled by ravenous wolves and starving leopards. Only a truly worthy prince could rescue her, for they believed she could not rescue herself.”

“But she was their daughter. Why would they…”

“I’ve told you, my best beloved. I can only guess why, and my best guess is tradition.” I stroked her hair. “What they didn’t count on was her resourcefulness. Unlike her older sisters, she didn’t have the patience with weaponry to make herself into a warrior or a monk and escape. Instead, she began teaching herself with the books available, stories of courtly romance and the politics of the realm she would be marrying into. Two of her cousins had already married higher in the realm, so she would be marrying the youngest son, who she was told was a disgrace who slunk around the castle, mingling with the lower classes. She was expected to be a refining influence.”

“So what happened next?”

“When she turned eighteen, she married the boy. They went to the kingdom together. And that’s when the disruption began. She arranged for the old king to disown his oldest son, providing the king with proof that instead of paying his fair share of taxes, the Crown Prince had been underreporting and stuffing his pockets. The Crown Prince’s lands were seized and distributed among his two younger brothers. The former Crown Prince claimed the documents had been forged, but nobody could prove it. His successor was murdered by his wife after it was revealed that he had sired a child with a chambermaid. The wife was executed, and the third son became the heir to the throne. And then…”

“Did the third prince die too?” I shook my head.

“No. But the King was forced to abdicate… after accusations of blasphemy and whispers of worshipping dark powers spread through the court. The nobility was in an uproar, and they knew that unless the King abdicated, the peasantry would rise up in rebellion… and the soldiers would rise up with them. And so the youngest prince became King.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, the nobles began disappearing, one by one. Only those who were loyal to the new King — truly loyal — found themselves immune to scandal and exposure. Anyone else soon found their plots exposed, their lovers betraying them, their ill-gotten wealth repossessed. Every noble who had been cruel to their peasants was deposed, and new nobles were raised. Nobles who had once been honest laborers, or servants, or shopworkers. Rumors began flying about that the King and Queen donned disguises and went out among the people to see who was truly honest, and those would be the ones raised to nobility. The upheaval was great, but the peasant nobles inspired in their armies a certain pride, and so even though they seemed weaker, they easily repelled the assaults from Aresha, who had not expected the third daughter to betray them in this manner.”

“Wow.” I grinned.

“And then there was the fourth daughter. They sought to remedy the mistakes they had made with the first three, so they sent her to the oldest tower, the one in worst repair. It had been constructed long before the kingdom, and it had never been used for a princess before. It was old, and it creaked, and… well, it smelled like mildew and rats. A pungent odor.” My daughter nodded. “It was in this tower, one without staff, that the fourth and youngest daughter found herself. Nobody could be found to staff the tower willingly, and so the King paid a nearby village handsomely to check on his daughter every day, and bring her food and drink. True, it was unorthodox, but it was the only solution, and every other tower was bound to have something left behind by a previous owner that would give the princess an opportunity to defy her parents. This one would have no such thing, and by having villagers keep an eye on her, they would also avoid a betrayal like the third daughter’s.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I know. But the fourth princess was stubborn, and explored the tower thoroughly. And she came across a door one night, one that had been locked and bound with chains, with warnings scratched in it. So when the villager assigned to bring her dinner arrived, she convinced him to help her open the door.”

“How?”

“Simple: She promised him that if he helped her, she would ensure that when she left, her family would get exclusive rights to the patch of forest surrounding the tower. The next night, he brought an axe, and they chopped away enough of the door that the chains could no longer hold it shut. She sent him away and crept in, looking through the room with a lantern. It was filled with old books, books that by all rights should have rotted away. As she looked, she began gathering the books in that dusty, strangely dry basement and organizing them. Soon, she had figured out what most of the books were about, and which ones were too hard for her.”

“And then what?”

“She began reading. She spent all day and night in the basement, leaving only to meet with her parents. She learned the names of the stars, the properties of herbs and wildflowers, and the names and practices of old gods long forgotten by or never known to the Areshan people. And she learned magic, teaching herself rituals, mastering the art of speaking to the spirits that lived in things, conjuring flame and wind, animating books to move on their own. She grew powerful, a master of magics that had been sealed away by the ancient Areshans out of fear, fear that those under them would discover the magic that had made the southern duchies so hard to conquer and rise up in rebellion. She taught herself many things, and began requesting herbs and flowers and stranger things besides, which the villagers were willing to get her in exchange for promises.”

“And she did that for three years?” I nodded.

“Three years spent studying forbidden lore. And then her eighteenth birthday came, and with it the suitor she was to marry. He was the son of a duke, a loyal Areshan through and through. She, sick of the customs of Aresha and the punishment she had been forced to endure for merely being born a woman, made him into her first example, using magic to melt his bones and boil his blood. He died in agony, and the retainers who sought to avenge their lord found their bodies slowly transmuted into ice, ice which melted in the hot summer sun. She kept her promises to the villagers, killing their lord and declaring herself to be the new queen of their land, of the southern duchies that had once been the home of mighty wizards. She marched on the armies of Aresha, and with the might of her magic few could stand against her. Those who fled were spared, but to those who sought to defend the nation and its corrupt practices she showed no mercy, calling upon great magic to end their lives.”

“Wow…”

“Unlike her older sister, however, she did not install new nobles. No, if the nobility of a region was eradicated, she did not care. This was an invader’s kingdom, one that had attacked her realm. True, they had attacked before she was born, and she had only adopted the realm, but she considered herself no longer Areshan. She was of the old ways, a wizard of highest caliber and strongest magic, and she would not bow to these foreigners.”

“Did she win?”

“In time, she reached the palace. The northern reaches were untouched by her, but they had their own problems; the northeast was facing pressure to invade the Unbowed Lands, while the northwest’s forces had been decimated time and again by the third daughter’s newly-invigorated armies. The palatial guard fell before her. The cousins who were generals fought her, and all but one died — the survivor she left alive to tell the King she had arrived to liberate her people. Her brother approached her in full regalia, asking her why she did this. Her response was a simple question: ‘Are you going to fight me?’”

“Did he?” A tall figure entered the room. I smiled at my older brother, his face covered with scars. I had a feeling he had been standing outside the room listening for a while.

“I have seen my younger sisters take destiny into their own hands. I have seen the apoplexy in our Father’s face, the red rage of having children defy him. I have seen you, dear Sister, bear the brunt of his anger, for he dared not strike me,” he said. “I have seen enough. It was to be my kingdom, but I do not want it. Not when it has done such ill, and forced my sisters to find their destinies alone. If your aim is to take this Kingdom for yourself, then I shall fight you. But if you wish only to destroy, then if you wish it, I will be your sword, your shield… your General.” He smiled. “She said no, of course. She did let me be a witness.”

“So then… you were the fourth princess, Mother?” I nodded.

“And as for your father, well… Do you remember the villager, the one whose family I granted the rights to that forest?” She nodded. “Well, that forest is now the castle, and so the only way to grant his family rights was to make them servants. That, or to marry him. And I’ll be honest, he’s much better at the domestics than I am.” I kissed my daughter on the forehead. “And yes, that means that Aunt Telia is the first princess, and Aunt Erishi is the second princess, and I’m surprised you never figured out the third princess was Aunt Selicia.”

“You didn’t say where the third princess’s kingdom was!” I laughed a little. “Anyway, you didn’t say what happened to Uncle Gerrick!”

“Well, Your Majesty? What happened to me?” asked my older brother, smirking.

“He showed up in the middle of me telling my daughter a story and stole a particularly juicy line.” I stuck out my tongue at him, and he stuck his out back at me.

“To answer your question, Your Highness… I became a sellsword. And then a diplomat for a kingdom all the way on the other side of the desert. One who still gets to visit his four sisters as often as he likes. And make sure that all his nieces and nephews get something every visit. Speaking of which… here.” He handed her a small bag. “It’s from the High Priest of Davved. It’s called chocolate. And…” He turned to me. “Tomorrow, Your Majesty, I’m going to bring it up in trade negotiations. So ask your daughter what she thinks of it.”


	16. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by: http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/167590991933/youre-a-supevillain-sitting-down-for-a-meal-at
> 
> I really hope things work out for Lucy & Carol. They obviously like each other a lot, outside their extracurriculars.

I grinned at my date. I’d insisted we come here, because, and I quote, “Best peanut sauce in town.” And given the look on her face, she obviously agreed. “So what do you do in your spare time?”

“Well, the usual. I mean, I help out in the community, I take my daughter to soccer practice and golf practice, sometimes I even get asked out on dates by —”

“EVERYBODY BE COOL, THIS IS A ROBBERY!” I turned to look at who was shouting. …Was that Steve? From Forcible Acquisitions? Was Steve _actually robbing my favorite…_  That boy was going to get a talking-to, how dare he interrupt my date with an unplanned heist… But I’d have to get rid of him without actually letting him know I was…  
  
And my date was gone. God fucking DAMMIT, things had been going so well, too! Great. I was going to have to abandon this place after I revealed my identity, wasn’t I? I sighed as I began to pull a pitch-black mask out of my purse.

“HALT, FIEND!”

…That was the voice of my nemesis, Captain Tomorrow. But what was she doing here? She couldn’t have heard of this fast enough to possibly…

…wait. Carol had mentioned… community service… No. There was no way.

“C-Captain Tomorrow?!” And now Steve was panicking. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. God dammit, if Carol was my archnemesis this was going to be _so_  awkward.

“And you’re one of The Shadow Countess’s henchmen,” she said. Back into the purse went the mask. “What’s a punk like you doing holding up an innocent restaurant?”

My phone’s text alert went off. I sighed, looking at it. It was from Rich, also from Forcible Acquisitions. “Steve said he was going to run Stingray, said he finally found a restaurant for it, finally managed to get ahold of you, do you know a Thai place called Kin Di?”

I whipped out my phone. “Yeah, I’m there, Captain Tomorrow is too, Steve is making an ass out of himself IN MY FAVORITE RESTAURANT but at least he’s not fighting in the place yet.” And send.

Space Unicorn began playing from Steve’s bandolier. He held up a hand and pulled his phone out, answering it. “Hon, I’m in the middle of something, can I… Whaddya mean, stop Stingray, it’s the wrong… oh. Ohhhhh. Shiiiiiit. She’s… she’s not gonna be happy with me, is she? …Yeah, you’re right, that’d be the best approach. Yeah. Love you too, babe.” Steve turned to Captain Tomorrow. “I… I’m just gonna… go. Turns out op was unauthorized…” And like that, he was out the door and running down the street. Captain Tomorrow sighed, turning invisible.

Three… two… one… “Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom, what happened?” asked Carol. I sighed.

“What happened is, a ‘we need to talk’ discussion just raised its head. Captain.”

“…I swear to god, if you tell anyone…”

“Relax, Carol. The last thing I want is to get kicked out of my favorite restaurant. And in the interest of fairness… go easy on Steve, OK? Only he’s a little overeager ‘cuz his boyfriend just joined the operation and he wants to prove he’s…”

“…Dammit. And Alice really liked you, too.”

“Hey. Just because I’m your arch-nemesis doesn’t mean we can’t make this work, Carol! It happens in comics all the time, and we do have a genuine connection, even if you discount the work-related stuff.”

“…Commissioner Winthrop isn’t gonna like this one bit, Lucy.”

“Commissioner Winthrop can bite me.”


End file.
